Dragon's Fire
by Jax25
Summary: This story was written after OOTP but before HBP was released.  Draco is taking the incarceration of his father rather hard, Snape is there to help.  As always MATURE CONTENT.


Draco was uncharacteristically silent as he stared at the wall of his compartment on the Hogwarts Express. For the first stage of the journey, Crabbe and Goyle had made dim-witted attempts to cheer him up – as they had tried all summer long – but when he failed to respond even to their rude comments about 'the famous Harry Potter,' they gave up trying. Now they just stared at him like exceedingly stupid bookends and their staring annoyed him even more than their chatter had.

Several more minutes passed and he could take it no longer. Pushing himself off the seat and toward the door, he growled at his cronies to "stay." Fleeing into the narrow corridor, he moved in search of fresh air or something to take his mind from the dark thoughts he'd been having.

Ever since his father was hauled off to Azkaban, Draco had been having strange and terrible dreams. The worst part of it was that the dreams brought with them feelings that lingered during his waking hours, filling them with dread, bitterness, anger and sometimes violent, uncontrollable rage.

His mother had found him crying one afternoon that summer, sitting at his father's massive desk in Malfoy Manor. She had mistaken the tears for misery at Lucius' absence. They weren't that at all. While he missed his father fiercely, Draco was old enough not to be crushed by the elder Malfoy's absence. No, his tears had been the product of a blind rage - brought about by nothing in particular - that he was impotent to stop from taking him over.

That same rage simmered under the surface more and more with each passing day. Draco was becoming acutely aware that someday soon it would escape again and woe to the person who got in its way. He had few doubts as to who that person would be, especially now that he was almost back at school. Smart money would bet on Potter but it could just as easily be Weasel or Granger. Draco was hoping that it would be Granger.

Without realizing it, he clenched his hands into fists. The sudden desire to wipe the smug look from her horsey face forever was almost more than he could stand. He could think of nothing else, obsessing on the image so thoroughly that he took no notice of what was going on around him as he passed down the train.

At last he emerged from the rear carriage and stepped out onto the small observation deck. The rushing wind riffled through his lengthening hair, snapping him out of his dark fantasies and abruptly recalling to him Narcissa Malfoy's voice as she had bid him goodbye on Platform 9 ¾. The two of them had been alone at the station for the first time in six years.

"You're starting to look so much like your father when I first met him," she said, her voice sad and yet full of fondness as her fingers lifted a blonde lock off his forehead. "Make him proud this year, my darling."

Make him proud. Draco had tried to make his father proud all his young life, yet he always seemed to fall short of Lucius Malfoy's expectations. The little voice in his head that had been niggling all summer long came back with a vengeance.

_Become a Death Eater_, it said. _If you succeed where Father has failed, he'll finally be proud of you. He'll _have_ to be._ The voice sounded almost desperate at the last, as if it had to convince even itself.

Draco took a long breath and then another, shoving the voice out of his mind with as much force as he could muster. "Not now," he told it, letting himself fully experience his anger for just an instant before holding it down again, "the time's not right." The fact that he was scared to death of the Dark Lord had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

Several minutes more he stood at the slender railing, watching the countryside whip by and yet taking little notice of it. The sun was setting and night coming on. He knew then that they must be getting close at last, so with one final look and another sigh, he turned and pushed his way back into the carriage.

As before, he paid scant attention to his surroundings and because of this, didn't see the form that popped out into the corridor until it was too late. The two of them went down in a heap of flailing arms and flaring robes and the other figure snarled at him, "Why don't you bloody watch where you're going?"

Draco growled something in reply and tried to disengage himself from the other boy, for there was no doubt that the struggling person below him was male. As he glanced down, he spotted the red hair and knew in a flash that it was Weasley with whom he had collided.

"Malfoy," the Gryffindor grumbled, "should have known."

"Shut your face, Weasel. It's not like I ran into you on purpose."

"Yeah, sure. Pull the other one."

And that was it; at those six little words, Draco snapped. His fist connected solidly with the other boy's jaw and he felt a jolt of satisfaction low in his belly as his knuckles stung – and even stranger than the satisfaction he felt…pleasure. Abandoning himself to raw sensation, he hit Weasley again and again, emitting a demented laugh as the taller boy brought his arms up to protect his face. Draco went on swinging, unaware of the commotion around him until he was dragged bodily from his prey.

"Get him off me! Get him off me!" Weasley was shrieking. "He's gone mental!"

By contrast, Draco said nothing. His laughter had dried up the moment he stopped punching but his eyes still burned with the heat of his frenzy and his chest heaved from the exertion. The person who had pulled him off of Weasley turned out to be Neville Longbottom and Draco shrugged violently out of the other Gryffindor's grasp.

Compartment doors all along the carriage stood open and faces gaped at the scene from each one. Potter and Granger stood behind Weasley, glaring daggers at him and he glared right back until Pansy Parkinson, trailed by Crabbe and Goyle, arrived on the scene to drag Draco away.

"You'll get punished for this, Malfoy," Potter hissed as the blonde passed him but Draco's only response was to sneer right in his hated rival's face. After that, he let Pansy herd him down the corridor. The sound of knuckles cracking came from behind him and his sneer slid into a self-satisfied smirk. It was a warning to the terrific trio. He knew the Gryffindors wouldn't get the message but that was all right. It would give him something to look forward to.

The last part of the journey to Hogwarts passed without further event. Once they were settled back in their compartment, Pansy chattered on at him about how she'd spent her summer traveling through Eastern Europe. This time Draco wasn't as annoyed by the incessant small talk as he'd been before. He even roused himself enough to give answers where appropriate, though his mind was still occupied with other matters.

Foremost in his thoughts was the crimson haze that had come over him as he started to thrash the living daylights out of Weasley. Draco had never experienced anything like that before and on one level, it scared the hell out of him. And yet…the rage had set him free like nothing on earth had ever done. It was cleansing; purifying – like a prairie fire sweeping over dry grasslands. Some deranged little part of him wanted to experience it again, and soon.

The laugh that followed on the heels of that thought was so out of place with the story Pansy was recounting to him that she stopped, a puzzled look on her face.

"What's funny about that?"

He wanted to tell her it was nothing she could possibly understand but he shrugged instead.

"Nothing, just something else I thought of. Go on." He gestured for her to continue her story, so she smiled at him and rambled on again.

It seemed like only a few moments before the train was slowing, though he wasn't aware precisely how much time had passed. By the time the wheels ground to a screeching halt, the four Slytherins had gathered up most of their belongings. With an air of practiced arrogance, Draco pawned his bags off onto Crabbe and Goyle and left them to fend for themselves, exiting the compartment with Pansy close behind.

When they stepped onto the platform and into the seething mass of students gathering there, the first sight that met Draco's gaze was that great oaf, Hagrid, herding the first years onto the boats for the annual trek across the lake. Turning his back purposefully on the scene, he strode without hesitation to the waiting carriages. Climbing aboard an empty one, he settled into the cushions and closed his eyes. His mind wandered as the carriage rocked, signaling the arrival of his companions and then with a soft jolt, they were off.

He drifted out of time, out of his body – so filled with its twisted emotions – and for a little while, there was nothingness. No dreams, no inner voice, no thoughts nor visions to get in his way – simply a void that expanded and contracted with his steady breathing. It remained thus until the carriage drew to a halt outside the school and Pansy tugged gently on his sleeve.

"Wake up, Draco. We've arrived."

Opening his eyes, he had the urge to tell her that he wasn't sleeping but what did that matter? He didn't really care if she'd made the wrong assumption, after all.

Pansy was first out of the carriage so Draco didn't see her expression as a warning. Before he knew what was happening, an arm appeared through the door and its hand buried itself in the fabric of his robes. He was tugged bodily from the coach and discovered that the arm belonged to none other than Argus Filch.

"Come along, Malfoy," he drawled as he tugged Draco along behind him, "Professor Snape is expecting you and I don't suppose he's happy to be dealing with you instead of attending the ceremony."

Filch's voice was almost gleeful, the raggedy old bastard. He enjoyed tormenting students more than anything else in the world and Draco was sure he probably got off over it too. That brought up a mental image that threatened to make the Slytherin sick, so he banished it from his head once more and simply trailed the caretaker down into the dungeons.

It wasn't long before they arrived outside the familiar door to Snape's office. Filch rapped twice upon it and then poked his head in without waiting for a reply. "He's here, Professor."

Draco heard Snape's voice, muffled by the walls, tell Filch to send him in. The caretaker gave Draco a toothy, self-satisfied grin and shoved him through the door before closing it once more with an ominous click.

Severus Snape sat at his desk, face impassive, but Draco knew from long association that the man's practiced calm was sometimes only a façade. The youth eyed Snape warily and didn't move further into the room. The two stared at each other for a while before Snape finally gestured to Draco and told him in curt tones to stop lingering in the doorway. Draco took a few reluctant steps forward, stopping several feet from the potions master's desk. He clasped his hands behind his back to project an air of arrogant unconcern as if he'd done nothing wrong.

Still the older man just stared at him and Draco had to stop himself from fidgeting under the black-eyed gaze. After another moment, Snape spoke again. "You know why you're here." A statement rather than a question.

"Yes, Professor."

Snape leaned back in his chair, "And is that the way a prefect acts?" When the boy didn't reply, he asked again, "Is that the way a _Malfoy_ acts?"

The question hit Draco like a punch to the solar plexus. They swayed him, not physically, but emotionally and he felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. The craziest thing was, he didn't know exactly _why_ Snape's words had that effect.

"No, Sir," he managed to say, his voice very quiet.

Snape nodded his agreement. "No. What would Lucius say if he heard that his only son and heir was rolling on the floor of a railway carriage with the son of Arthur Weasley?"

Put that way it sounded so obscene. He opened his mouth to defend himself but Snape cut him off with a curt gesture. Draco wanted to inform Snape that Lucius himself had gotten into a public brawl with Ron's father only four years before but after the gesture, he thought the less he said on the matter, the better.

He didn't know about the letter his mother had owled to his Head of House and there was nothing in Snape's demeanor that would betray the secret. The letter had been a warning to the potions master to tell him that her son was becoming even more of a handful since his father's incarceration. Because Draco didn't know about the letter, he assumed that Snape would not believe that he hadn't meant to clobber Weasley, that it was just something that had happened, something beyond his control.

One thing he did know, however, was that Snape didn't care any more about the Gryffindor than he did. It was just that Snape would have to answer to that old fool Dumbledore if he didn't see to it that his prefect was disciplined for the misdemeanor. Realizing that fact helped Draco, even though he still thought it unfair that he was even standing here.

"Do you have anything else to say for yourself before I decide on your punishment?"

"I don't suppose it will help to say it wasn't my fault?" he let a bit of hope sound in his voice.

"It wasn't your fault that you pummeled a Gryffindor prefect on the Hogwarts Express?" Snape's dry voice held a hint of amusement.

"Well, he insulted me after I'd accidentally run into the back of him. Was I supposed to just smile?"

That certainly wasn't the Slytherin way. Snape was a Slytherin so Draco rationalized that he, of all people, should know that. To Draco's further surprise, Snape actually smiled.

"While I do understand the desire to beat some sense into thick, arrogant Gryffindor skulls, I do expect you to be more subtle about it next time. Besides, you could have hit him until the ending of the world and still never managed it."

Levity from Professor Snape - that was something rare, even for his favorites in Slytherin House. True, it was sarcastic enough to have come from Snape but Draco wasn't used to the sheer amusement behind the words, especially in such a serious situation. He was unsure how to respond so he uttered another, "Yes, Professor."

"Right then. I think a week of detentions should do, beginning tomorrow."

"Yes, Professor."

Snape nodded, concluding their business. "Now that everything is settled, go join your classmates in the Great Hall. We're sure to have missed the sorting ceremony, but if you're lucky, your contemporaries will still be gorging themselves on the feast."

"Thank you, Sir." Draco turned toward the door.

"Draco…"

"Yes, Professor?"

"Seven O'clock. I expect you to be prompt."

"Yes, Sir."

**oOoOo**

Snape was right. The ceremony was just finishing when Draco shoved in between Crabbe and Goyle. It was then that he noticed that the entire Gryffindor table was glaring at him. This made no sense to him until he discovered the next morning that McGonagall had also assigned Weasley a week's worth of detentions for his part in the fray.

Draco felt a small twinge of happiness at the news and he almost wanted to kiss the old witch for being so bloody fair-minded. Almost. He managed to make it through his first day of classes tolerably well – being snubbed by Gryffindors was nothing new – and he found that he was not dreading his detention as he had feared he would the night before.

It helped that he was serving it with Snape. Draco didn't know exactly why that was. Perhaps he felt a certain kinship with the older man or maybe it was just the fact that Severus was a friend of the family. Surely it wasn't because the man was fun to be around.

Of course the boy appreciated the way Snape used his caustic wit on every possible occasion to keep Potter and his pals in line, but the joking mispronunciation that the Slytherins used amongst themselves for their head of house – Severe Snape – was no misnomer. Even so, there was the feeling that Snape was one of them, a pureblood wizard who knew how things _should_ be run.

Arriving at Snape's door, still musing, Draco rapped at the solid wood.

"Come in, Draco!" Snape called, his voice again muffled. Draco thought idly that the older man's voice seemed harsher when heard through several inches of sturdy oak.

He pushed the door open and wandered in. His swagger conveyed the usual arrogance but his expression and the rest of his demeanor held the proper deference for the head of Slytherin House.

"Good evening, Professor."

"Good evening, Malfoy. I'm glad to see that you, at least, are punctual."

Draco gave him a puzzled look. "Who's not?"

"Weasley, of course. He was supposed to be here half an hour ago."

"Weasley?" Draco croaked.

Snape fixed Draco with his stare. "Have you gone deaf all of a sudden or are you mimicking me for some other obscure reason?"

"I…just…making sure I heard you," he mumbled the last.

"Yes, well, you did. Professor McGonagall, in her vast wisdom," the sarcasm was in full force tonight, "heard that you were serving your detentions with me and thought it a good idea that Weasley did as well." His dark eyes bored into the boy. "I trust you'll at least _appear_ to be civil while in my presence?"

Draco wasn't sure he could manage that but he didn't say as much to the potions master. Instead, he nodded and said simply, "Yes, Professor."

Snape smirked at him, perhaps reading his mind, and turned back to the papers before him. It was only a moment or two before he lay down his quill and picked up his wand. The scrap of parchment he'd been writing on flew over to Draco who snatched it out of the air.

"That is your list of tasks for the evening. If Weasley shows up he will be sharing them with you. If not…" Snape's face darkened like a thundercloud and Draco found himself glad, not for the first time by any means, that he wasn't the other boy. Giving another nod, Draco looked over the list and set to work without further comment.

Weasley did show up, running into the room a quarter of an hour later and stammering some lame excuse. The potions master simply raised an eyebrow and intoned, "Twenty-five points from Gryffindor for your tardiness, Mr. Weasley. Mr. Malfoy has the list of tasks you are to complete."

The red-haired boy opened his mouth as if to argue and Snape's scowl deepened, "Unless you want it to be fifty points, Mr. Weasley, I would suggest you hop to it. You should have plenty to keep you busy."

That must have sunk at last into the Gryffindor's thick skull because he lowered his head and trudged over to where Draco was scrubbing cauldrons. Draco looked at him with what he knew was his most irritating smirk and murmured, "Why don't you go skin the shrivelfigs, Weasel? We'll get done faster that way…especially without me having to trip over your outlandishly big feet."

Ron glared at him and growled, "You know what they say about men with big feet?"

"Yeah, they've got small brains."

Ron's face turned almost as red as his hair. "Why you…" Just as he made a move toward Draco, Snape called out, "Mr. Weasley! This is your final warning. Stay away from Mr. Malfoy and do your chores."

"But Professor, he…"

"Silence!"

Ron gave Draco another heated glare and moved away from the Slytherin to the chopping block at the other end of the long workbench. Draco started to whistle as he worked. The tune he chose was "Weasley is our King" from the previous year. He snickered to himself as he heard the Gryffindor's teeth grinding from across the room.

An hour or so passed in relative peace as both of the students kept out of each other's way. Then Snape, having finished whatever had held his attention thus far, rose and told them he would return shortly before passing into an adjoining room, leaving the two alone together.

Things might have been okay, even without the stern supervision of their professor, had Ron not been passing Draco with a cauldron full of waste potion and taken a misstep, splashing a bit of the contents near Draco's feet. The blonde jumped aside, narrowly avoiding the splatter and growled at the Gryffindor, "Why don't you watch what you're doing you clumsy git? These shoes cost more than your dad makes in a month."

"Well then, maybe I should do it on purpose this time," Ron snapped back at him and made a motion as if to pour the rest of the cauldron's contents on Draco's feet.

"Don't even think about it!"

"Or what? You'll go whinging to Snapey? What, has he become your daddy since Lucius got hauled off to prison?"

Draco felt the anger rising within him, as strong as if it had never lain dormant.

"_What_ did you say?"

Ignoring Draco's outraged question, Ron continued, "You know, the biggest shame is that all the dementors left Azkaban. Your dad could do with their kiss."

The red haze came down over Draco's vision again and he almost welcomed it. He surely didn't try to hold it back as he lost all touch with his conscious, rational mind. From far away it seemed, he heard Weasley yelling before his hands closed around the Gryffindor's throat. After that, he vaguely heard Snape's startled voice and felt himself being pulled away from the other boy.

"I _said _that is enough!"

Those were the first words that penetrated the fog and Draco found himself in the circle of Snape's arms, shaking with incandescent rage.

"Get out, Weasley," Snape was telling the Gryffindor. "I'll meet with Professor McGonagall tomorrow to settle the rest of your detentions. This is clearly not going to work."

Ron, fool that he was, hesitated until Snape all but shouted, "Go!"

That got the redhead moving and he fled the room without another thought. Once he was gone, Snape turned Draco around to face him and stared at the boy, his face inscrutable.

"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you?" he asked, frustration clear in his voice. Something about the tone sparked the myriad emotions singing through Draco's body and his raging anger was replaced by another feeling entirely. Before either of them knew what was happening, Draco buried his hands in the black wool of Snape's robes and dragged him close, capturing the man's lips in a fierce kiss.

Taken completely by surprise, it was a moment before the potions master could react. He pushed Draco away from him, though still retained contact. Severus held him fast by his upper arms and hissed at him, "Do you have any idea what you're doing, Boy?"

Draco almost answered; almost snarled that of course he didn't know what he was doing, but the other man's lips were still so close – so tantalizingly close.

He managed to break the potions master's grip on his right arm and reached up to wrap his fingers into Snape's hair, pulling the professor's head down so that he could capture Snape's lips once more. Slowly, and obviously somewhat against his will, Severus responded to the fire of the kiss. The fact that he was responding at all was enough for Draco.

Anger fed lust, lust that personified a deeper need. Draco didn't know what it was he needed, but if Snape could give it to him, he would take it. He was a Malfoy and Malfoys took what they wanted. Father always told him that it was so.

He tugged at the professor's hair, demanding…what? He didn't know. Severus growled softly at the tug but _he _must have had some idea what the gesture meant because he took the boy's face between his hands and pulled out of the kiss.

"Not here," he rasped, his sonorous voice reduced to a shadow of its normal power by desire. "Follow me."

Draco followed, not touching the other man but wanting to. His cock was swollen and strained hard against the silk boxers that kept it imprisoned. His mind wondered if Severus' was doing the same, but his body screamed it didn't care. It seemed to say,_ "Now! Want him now!_" and he didn't have the years of experience in self-control that the other man had.

For that reason, as soon as they reached the potions master's quarters, he flung himself against Severus once more and his hands roved over the man's body as his lips devoured the professor's mouth.

Severus groaned deeply as Draco's fingers found their way under his robes and rubbed over his crotch. Severus' body had indeed responded to the boy's ministrations and as Draco squeezed the bulge under his palm, he was rewarded by another groan, louder than the first, and Severus' hips twitching into his grasp.

A moment or two later, Snape broke away from his mouth, murmuring a desperate oath. He took hold of Draco's hand, stopping his movements and drew a long, steadying breath. "Is this really what you want?" he asked quickly, his voice still ragged.

"Yes!" Draco wanted to shout that of course he wanted it, else he wouldn't be here, but Severus was already talking again.

"And have you ever done this before?" his sharp eyes searched Draco's.

"Ah." That gave Draco pause for the first time since Ron had insulted his father. "Not with…"

"A man?" Snape finished for him. Draco nodded.

"Come." Severus held out his hand and Draco took it, allowing himself to be led toward Snape's bed.

Once they reached the bedside, Severus stopped and reached out to remove Draco's tie. It was already half undone from the time spent with the chores and the knot slid easily apart, allowing Snape to pull it from the boy's collar with a quick tug. The green and silver material slithered through Severus' fingers just like the symbol of their house and was forgotten as the potions master started on the buttons of Draco's shirt.

Draco's breath caught as Severus' surprisingly warm hands slid beneath the fabric and lifted it off over his shoulders. A hum of appreciation was Snape's reply as his hands traveled over the lightly muscled chest and down to the boy's waist. Long, elegant fingers made quick work of belt and fly and as the trousers slid off over Draco's slim hips, the boy kicked off his shoes.

"On the bed," Snape murmured as he fingered Draco's straining hardness, "on your knees."

Giving him a curious look, Draco did as he was told without further hesitation. He heard whispers of movement behind him as the professor stripped. Expecting to feel the man settle in at his back, Draco was surprised when Snape knelt in front of him instead. The young Slytherin's eyes were drawn to the fine, dark hair that graced the potions master's chest and trailed down to his erection.

It took Draco a moment to focus on anything else but once he pulled his eyes away from the other man's torso, he watched as Severus pooled some oil from a small bottle into his palm. Draco was surprised once more when Snape's long fingers wrapped around Draco's shaft. Somehow he'd assumed the potions master would coat the material over his own cock in preparation for buggering Draco.

"What are you…?"

"Hush," Severus told him simply.

The boy watched as the professor prepared him. His anger was gone, even the overwhelming lust had dulled. Those emotions were replaced by simple pleasure, desire and a sense of wonder that a man normally so sarcastic and unreachable could make him feel like this.

A groan sounded in the stillness of the room and it took Draco several seconds to realize it had come from his own throat. The vocalization seemed a signal to Severus that the boy was ready because he let go of Draco and turned, backing until his arse came in contact with Draco's manhood.

Draco tentatively laid a hand on the potions master's hip and Severus moved so that Draco's cock slid between his buttocks. The youth gasped and then groaned once more at the feel of hot flesh surrounding him. Acting completely on reflex, he thrust a few times into the cleft before Snape rasped, "Draco…do you know what to do?"

"Yesss," the boy hissed in reply.

"Then do it!"

The blonde needed no more urging. Pulling back just far enough, he guided himself to Severus' opening. He tried to enter the potions master slowly but once the head of his cock was inside, Severus pushed hard against him, drawing loud grunts from both of them.

Wrapping his arms around the man before him, Draco plunged into Severus' arse, inexperience quickly giving way to exuberant thrusting. He didn't pay much heed when Snape brought a hand down to stroke himself, but as the tightness in his balls grew, the desire to take everything that he could get from the other man began to reemerge.

Nudging Severus forward so that the potions master had to support himself on one arm, he took hold of Snape's hips and ground fiercely into the body beneath him. He was aware of the groans and soft words of encouragement that escaped from Severus' mouth but he paid little attention to anything but the pleasure coursing through his own groin.

Finally, Severus tensed below him and cried out as he spilled his passion onto the sheets. Draco tossed his sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes and drove hard into the other man for just a few moments more, then emptied his balls with a cry of his own and collapsed against the potions master's back.

The pair caught their breath for a short while and then Draco withdrew from the professor and flopped down on his back, staring up at the ceiling in silence. He heard Severus cast a cleaning spell on the bedding and felt the mattress shift as the older man settled at his side. For a time neither spoke, simply enjoyed the moment. Eventually, Severus asked, "Better now?"

Draco turned his head to regard his mentor, taking note of the man's rumpled appearance and the light flush to Snape's sallow skin. "Actually, yeah, I do feel better."

The hint of a smile appeared on Severus' lips. "I'm glad to hear that."

Draco hummed his agreement and was quiet for a few more moments. "Professor?"

"Under the circumstances, I think you can call me Severus." The laughter was back in the potions master's tone.

"All right. Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you let me…?" his voice trailed off as he tried to decide how to express his thoughts.

"Isn't it what you wanted?"

Draco's face showed just a touch of confusion, "Yes."

"And didn't you just say that you feel better?"

"Yes, but you didn't have to…"

"You might be surprised to hear this, Mister Malfoy, but you're not the only man with desires."

The boy opened his mouth to say of course he knew that, but before he could, he realized that the idea of Severus wanting him had never entered his mind before now. Severus reached up as Draco closed his mouth and stroked his fingers through the boy's pale hair.

"What do you see when you look at me?" Draco asked suddenly. The look the older man gave him was guarded and Draco somehow knew the answer. "You see my father, don't you?"

"Would it bother you if I said 'yes'?"

Draco laughed. "Actually, no. You wouldn't be the first. Mother told me at the station that I look like he did at my age."

"You do," Severus replied, his voice nearly a whisper, "very much so."

"You fancied him."

"A long time ago. In another lifetime."

"Did you fail to live up to his expectations too?"

Snape stared at him, a new respect entering his gaze. "You might say that." The tone he used was slightly self-conscious, but Draco recognized and understood the pain that lurked beneath it.

"Yeah," he murmured.

Yet another silence fell and Severus continued to stroke the boy's hair softly. As he curled a lock between his thumb and forefinger, he asked, "You miss him, don't you?"

"Yes."

"And that's why you've been thrashing Weasley at every opportunity?"

"No, I…" he stopped. Despite what had just happened between them, despite the fact that the man at his side was his mentor, his head of house and a long time family friend, he suddenly wondered whether he could trust Snape implicitly. Dark eyes bored into him and he drew a long breath to cover his doubt. "I've just been angry lately."

"Why, Draco?"

Ah, now that was the question. "I don't know," he mumbled.

"You must have some idea."

Frustration welled up in him again and he clenched his jaw tightly, trying to keep from snapping at the other man. In the end it was useless. "You're just like him," he spat, "won't take 'no' for an answer."

Snape was taken aback at this and it showed. "How won't he take 'no' for an answer?" the potions master asked, suspicion clear in his eyes. Draco sighed and shook his head.

"Not like that. No matter what people think of Father, he wouldn't…" he couldn't quite bring himself to say it, "you know."

"Then what is it that he wants you to do that you refuse to?"

"He wanted me to take oaths to the Dark Lord this summer, though I didn't really want to do it yet. He planned it all before he was taken."

Surprise lit on the professor's face once more, followed by a frown. "He didn't tell me that," Snape muttered darkly.

"Would it have mattered if he did?"

Severus blinked as if he'd momentarily forgotten Draco's presence. He measured the boy again with a glance and sighed. "You're not ready for it. I told him that several months before the incident at the Ministry."

Draco stiffened. Not ready? What did that mean? He looked at the older man with narrowed eyes and asked just that.

"Draco, I predicted your lackluster performance on the OWLs. Was I wrong?"

"No," the boy replied sulkily.

"Indeed. Outside of my class, you have always been a mediocre student, though I know you have the potential for so much more. That is why you're not ready. You won't survive in the Dark Lord's service as a mediocre wizard."

The young Slytherin glowered at the potions master. "Are you saying my father was sub par?"

"No, I'm not saying that at all. Lucius knew what he was about and he still ended up in Azkaban. Do you understand what that means for you?"

"I just want to be like him," the boy muttered.

"You want to be in prison too?"

Draco's scowl deepened and quite deliberately, the turned away to face the wall. Severus sighed and stared at the boy's back for a minute or so before rolling onto his own back and gazing upwards. There was a lengthy silence, which Snape finally broke by saying, "You should probably go back to the dormitory soon."

Without comment, Draco sat up at once and went about getting dressed. The potions master lay on the bed, watching him impassively. Once Draco finished knotting his tie, he turned to go and Snape's deep voice broke the silence once more.

"Don't forget your detention tomorrow, Mister Malfoy. I will expect you at the same time."

"Yes, Sir," Draco muttered and strode off to the door without further ado. He kept himself firmly under control until he'd passed through the common room and into the room he shared with Crabbe and Goyle. Calmly, he changed into his pajamas, completely ignoring the cacophony of snores coming from the other beds and clambered into his own. No sooner had he pulled the curtains than hot tears of shame and frustration poured unbidden from his eyes.

He was a Malfoy and Malfoys didn't cry. He heard the words as if his father was right there, speaking them in his ear but he simply couldn't stop the tears. The pleasure and closeness that he had found with Severus was gone, wiped out by a cold emptiness. Worse than that, he felt betrayed by the only two men whom he had ever looked up to. Severus plainly underestimated his abilities and his father – well, Father had abandoned him, hadn't he?

Feeling lonelier than he ever had and not liking it one bit, Draco embraced the anger that was always lurking now in the dark corners of his soul. He embraced it, let its heat fill him and drive out the coldness that threatened to shatter his heart.

As the tendrils of fiery rage surrounded him and flowed through him, he made a vow to himself.

"I'll show them," he whispered to the darkness. "I'll show them that they have no idea who Draco Malfoy _really _is. No idea at all…"

**oOoOo**

The rest of the week passed without major incident. He served out the remainder of his detentions with Snape and both of them seemed content to ignore what had happened between them. Conversation was limited to rather bland instructions from the professor and a few assorted questions from Draco about how Snape wanted things done.

Finally on the last night, as Draco was preparing to leave, he became aware of Snape standing behind him and with an inaudible sigh, he turned to face the potions master. "What is it?" he asked simply.

"Come with me," Snape replied just as simply.

Draco felt a bit of uneasiness creeping into the pit of his stomach, but he obeyed without comment. The potions master led him into his small sitting room and indicated a chair by the fire.

"Sit."

Draco sat, watching as the older man took the other chair and met the boy's gaze. "We need to talk about what happened the other evening," Snape began.

"Do we?" Draco cut in. "I thought it was pretty straightforward really. We used each other to fulfill our needs and then we went on with our lives. Isn't that about it?"

Snape's black eyes bored into Draco, all traces of emotion carefully hidden. "It wasn't that simple and you know it. I am your professor and head of house. The consequences…"

"So that's it," the boy gave a derisive sniff. "Don't worry, Professor. I won't tell anyone."

"Will you shut up and let me finish?" Snape growled and Draco closed his mouth. "Thank you. What I was trying to say was this: the consequences of our liaison notwithstanding, I feel it's my duty to help you with your problems."

"What if I don't need your help?"

"Everyone needs help from time to time, whether we would admit it or not."

"And if I don't _want_ your help?" The words were more aggressive.

Snape sighed. "I'll be here if you decide you do, or if you just want to talk. I owe you that at least."

"You mean you owe my father."

"No, Draco," the look Snape gave him was unflinching, "I owe _you_."

"All right," the boy muttered, "but I'm not promising you anything."

The potions master nodded. "I'm not asking you to."

Silence descended for a few more moments before Draco asked, "Can I go then?"

"Of course. I'll see you Monday."

The blonde stood and strode to the door. Stealing a glance back over his shoulder, he saw that Snape was gazing into the fire, his expression troubled. Draco almost turned back but a little voice in his head reminded him that Snape had counseled Father to hold him back, had said that he wasn't ready for a position that might finally have won him Lucius' approval. That alone stiffened his spine and drove him out of the room before he could change his mind.

**oOoOo**

As he walked back to his room that night, Draco told himself that he wouldn't be taking Snape up on his offer. His mother still wrote him faithfully every other day and he was as busy as ever with his studies, Quidditch practice and generally making the Gryffindors' lives as miserable as possible. (Considering his position as prefect, he was able to devote a substantial amount of time to the latter.) Even so, his days felt empty as they never had before. As a month drug by, he found himself in the potions master's office more and more often.

He only spoke to Severus once outside class in the week after his detentions but the third week of classes was trying and he found himself drawn several times to the professor's door. In the fourth week, the two of them started having late suppers together in Severus' sitting room. The talk ranged from class work to politics to Draco's hopes for the future – though they always managed to skirt the topic of Death Eaters or the Dark Lord somehow. Considering the things that they _did_ talk about, that was a rather amazing feat.

Draco found himself sharing things that he never would have shared with anyone – not with his classmates, not with Lucius, not even with his mother, who tended to be his confidante. He was still upset that Severus had no confidence in his abilities, but in some inexplicable way that served to make him more willing to talk to the man rather than less.

As for sex, they hadn't so much as touched since that night, but several times Draco caught himself watching the potions master's long fingers as they curled around the stem of a wine glass or brushed a strand of ebony hair out of Severus' eyes. Once he realized that he was staring, Draco would force his mind onto other things but the tension from wanting those hands to touch him would always remain.

For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why. It wasn't just sex. If he wanted that, Pansy was always eager and willing to have a go. In fact, in the aftermath of his week of detentions, they'd had quite a few goes: behind the greenhouses, in one of the unused classrooms, even once in the boys' dormitory when everyone else was out watching the Ravenclaw team trounce Hufflepuff. Still, he found himself watching his head of house with something almost like ravening hunger.

He knew part of what he needed from the man – approval – and he wanted to hear Severus say that he was wrong, that Draco was ready. He wanted Severus to affirm that Draco wasn't substandard and that if he joined the Death Eaters, he wouldn't disappoint his father as he'd always done before.

So it was that he was sitting there one night, six weeks into the term, listening to his professor expound on some theory but not really listening. He was watching the graceful patterns that Severus' hands carved in the air and lapsing into flights of fancy about them moving softly but possessively over his bare flesh. He was just having a particularly vivid vision of Snape's fingernails digging into his back when he realized the potions master was no longer speaking. Severus was looking at him with an inscrutable expression but when Draco looked into his eyes, he thought he detected a wary hope.

Draco blushed slightly and then tried to hide it by taking a sip of the wine that he held in his right hand. Snape watched him raise and lower the glass and then asked, "So what do you think?"

He was clearly referring to what he'd been talking about for the last ten minutes but Draco had long since lost the thread of the conversation. He gave the older man an apologetic smile and muttered, "I'm sorry, Severus, I'm afraid you've lost me."

A hint of a grin stole across Snape's lips and he said quietly, "I thought so." A short silence fell between them and then he continued, "What _were_ you thinking about?"

Draco got the distinct impression that Severus knew precisely what he'd been thinking but that he wanted to hear what the boy would say for himself. He drew a breath and then looked Snape directly in the eye. "Your hands."

"My hands?" the question held the slightest amusement as Snape made a show of examining one of them.

"Yes."

"What about my hands, Draco?"

"They're…" Draco was suddenly at a loss for words. He didn't know how to tell the man that he fancied the long fingers and wanted more than anything to feel them upon his skin.

Without speaking, Snape stood and seemed to glide around behind the boy's chair. There was a momentary pause before Draco felt the other man's hands rest on his shoulders and then slowly slide down over his chest. Draco closed his eyes and pressed his head back against the reassuring solidity of the professor's abdomen. The body behind him shifted and there came a soft tickling of breath against his ear as Severus whispered, "What do you want?"

"I don't know," he whispered back, but only a second later, he realized that he did. "I…I want you to show me what it was like for you." Snape paused, as if unsure what the boy meant and Draco hastened to add, "Take me Severus. I know you want to."

"But do _you_ really want it?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I haven't figured that out," the blonde admitted, "I just do."

"It hurts the first time," Severus murmured.

"I don't care." Draco hissed with pleasure as the other man's warm fingers caressed under his jaw, finding his pulse point. "Pain doesn't frighten me."

He felt more than heard the snort of laughter that Severus gave at those words. A light, hot puff of air across his ear that threatened to drive him mad with desire, even as he scowled at the implication of it. They both knew that his statement was a lie, but Snape didn't have to laugh at him like that.

Severus must have felt him stiffen because he took he took the boy's earlobe between his lips and sucked it softly. Draco's indignation withered as a jolt of pleasure streaked through his abdomen.

"Please," he moaned, "just take me."

"If that _is_ what you want."

"Yes!"

Severus straightened and came around to offer Draco his hand. As before, the boy took it, allowing himself to be guided to the professor's bed. When, after careful preparation, Severus finally edged inside him, Draco realized that this might not have been the best idea. His mouth opened in a silent howl of pain, his eyes screwed tightly shut. However, the man atop him was patient, slowly and silently opening Draco's body to him, angling precisely where he knew it would cause Draco to forget his pain.

Draco gasped and his eyes flew open the first time the potions master's cock rubbed over his prostate. The satisfied smirk was back on Severus' lips as he drew back and shoved in once more, this time harder. The boy's eyes rolled back in his head and he let out a sharp cry, but this was certainly not a cry of pain.

On it went, the ache still present but pleasure building on top of it, broadening the entire sensation, especially when Snape reached down to take Draco's swollen member in his hand. Draco's whole world constricted into the pulsing ecstasy centered in his groin and then it seemed to implode, the pleasure falling in upon itself, and with that little part of his mind that was still capable of rational thought, he realized he was coming. He cried out again as he coated Severus' hand with his cum and the potions master continued his pounding thrusts. Draco was still feeling the aftershocks when Severus buried himself as far as he could and poured out his seed.

The sound of their heavy breathing was the only thing audible and it seemed overly loud in the stillness. Severus didn't move; his weight rested on his arms and knees as he panted for air. Then after a few seconds, he withdrew and lay as he had done before at the boy's side.

He offered one of his rare, enigmatic smiles and muttered, "Is that what you wanted?"

"Merlin's balls, yes!" Draco breathed emphatically. Snape laughed. The laugh was infectious and still lost in euphoria, Draco couldn't help but join in. It took several minutes for the laughter to subside but once they had quieted, the blonde reached out to stroke the professor's chest, murmuring, "You're good at this."

"Thank you," was the simple reply.

"Would it be wrong of me to ask how many students you've seduced?"

"I didn't seduce you Draco. I seem to recall you throwing yourself at me." Snape paused, perhaps to let that idea sink in before continuing. "However, to answer your impertinent question, none."

"You've never wanted to shag a student before me?"

"It's not a question of wanting, Draco; it's a question of propriety."

"Surely you, of all people, don't worry about what is proper. I've heard Father and some of his friends talking about what you were like in the 'old days.'"

"That's just it. Times have changed." He paused again, his gaze far away. "Those days were spent entirely in the service of our Lord and my own ambition. I wasn't yet teaching. One is bound to act differently in such circumstances."

Draco's eyes glowed. "Tell me what it was like – serving him, I mean."

"How can I describe it to you?" Severus frowned. "It's very difficult to explain to those unfamiliar with how things were then."

"Can't you try? I mainly want to know what to expect when I finally…" his voice trailed off under the hard stare the older man gave him.

"That I _can_ tell you about and take my words as a friendly warning, won't you? To be of use to the Dark Lord you have to be smart, you have to be ruthless and cunning, and you have to be willing to do anything that he orders you to, even if the people effected mean something to you. If you fail in a task set before you, you will be immediately and harshly punished or someone you love will." He paused once more to let this sink in.

"It's a dangerous existence and it could be all for naught if our master does not win the war with Dumbledore and the rest. If he doesn't, if he loses and is destroyed, you must be prepared to spend the rest of your life in the cell next to your father."

Draco scowled. "I may not be of age, but I'm not a child anymore, Severus – as I hope you've noticed. Everyone in my life serves him. My parents serve him, Aunt Bella serves him, even _you_ serve him and you tell _me_ not to follow your lead?" his eyes narrowed, "In fact, you almost sound as if it's a foregone conclusion that he _is_ going to be destroyed. Shouldn't you be encouraging me to help make sure that doesn't happen?"

"And you sound as if you've made your decision already," Severus observed quietly, ignoring Draco's question.

"Maybe I have," was the defiant reply.

The potions master said nothing.

**oOoOo**

A letter came almost a month later. Draco unrolled the parchment to find a short message from his mother. No teardrops marred the surface of the expensive paper but from the shaky handwriting, he knew at once that she had been suffering some heavy emotion. Once he'd read her words, he knew why.

_My dearest Draco,_

_I had news today from the Ministry. They pushed your father's trial forward so that I wasn't even able to be there to give him support. I've been informed that he was sentenced to life in Azkaban, and should the Dementors return to the prison, I am told that he may receive sterner punishment at that time._

_I don't like to worry you, especially mid-term when I know you are so busy, but I thought you would be upset with me for not telling you right away. Don't worry about a reply if you don't have the time, my darling. The holidays will be here soon and we can talk it all over then._

_All my love,_

_Mother_

Draco read the letter over again, barely able to believe his eyes. Then he folded the letter and went off in search of Severus.

He found the professor in his classroom, just finishing up a few things after just having dismissed a class of first years. The blonde sidled up behind the potions master and slipped a possessive arm around the man's waist.

Snape immediately shrugged away from the boy and growled, "I thought you knew better than to touch me in public."

"There's nobody here," Draco pouted, "and I need you."

"Draco, this is a classroom and I have another class due presently. If you can't follow a simple instruction, perhaps I need to teach you…discipline," his voice was cool and a touch threatening, but as he turned and spotted the look on Draco's face, his annoyance faded away. "What's wrong?"

Draco handed him the letter without a word and he read it quickly. Once the potions master had finished, he sighed and handed it back to the boy. "They're making an example of him. I was afraid that would happen."

"Can't you convince the Dark Lord to get him out?" Draco's voice was half-hopeful, half-pleading.

"I'm afraid not. He's very angry with Lucius right now."

"Somebody has to do something," the boy's voice was raspy with despair. Severus looked down at him, pity clear on his face.

"Wait for me in my office. I'll make sure that you're excused from any classes you miss."

Malfoy nodded automatically and turned to the door as if lost in a trance. Unnoticed by the boy, Severus stared after him with a frown on his face and then moved to his desk to await the arrival of his next class.

**oOoOo**

Draco had been staring at the same spot on the ceiling for an hour – at least, he thought it was an hour. He'd never bothered to look at the time when he started staring at it. It wasn't a particularly interesting spot; it was simply a darkened place where the plaster had rubbed thin. As hard as he was staring at it however, it might have been the eighth wonder of the world.

At last Severus walked in and broke him out of his reverie.

The blonde made to rise from the professor's chair but Snape waved him back into it and summoned another so that he could sit across from the boy. It was a bit surreal for the young Slytherin to be sitting on this side of the desk and Draco shifted uncomfortably. Severus just watched him, not saying anything for the longest time. The boy wanted to shout at him to speak, but he held his tongue. Eventually the potions master did speak.

"There are legal paths we might pursue, appeals we can make."

"And you think they'll work? You said yourself that they're making an example of him."

Snape sighed. "We can at least try. What is there to lose?"

"Time," Draco said, feeling his impatience rising.

"Draco, he's been given a life sentence. He's only in danger if the Dementors return and that's highly unlikely at the moment. The Dark Lord gives them far more of what they want than the Ministry ever did."

Malfoy nodded but he remained unconvinced. Severus seemed to sense this because he went on, "There is time. Don't do anything rash. Please."

The blonde gave a non-committal bob of his head. A lump had found its way into his throat at the mention of the Dementors as the reality of his father receiving the kiss sank in upon him. He felt tears stinging his eyes but fought to hold them back. Malfoys didn't cry, especially in front of others.

"Would you like some dinner?" Snape asked gently.

Draco shook his head. He wasn't at all hungry. The potions master nodded and said, "Come to bed then."

The boy followed him into the bedroom, expecting their normal shag but once more he was surprised. As usual, Severus took Draco's hand and led him to the bed but then the older man simply lay down on the duvet, pulling Draco down beside him and wrapping him in comforting arms. Without hesitation, the blonde buried his face in Severus' robes and once the fabric pressed against his skin, he could no longer hold back the tears.

For a long time he poured out his grief in the arms of the man who, in a twisted way, was like a second father. Conflicting emotions waged war inside him but once his tears had dried, he found a certain calm returning.

"Better?" Severus' fingers brushed a random hair off his face. That seemed to be the standard question between them these days.

"Yeah," the standard reply. Curiously, he meant it more this time than he ever had before.

"Severus."

"Draco?"

"If I do something _rash_ and it doesn't work as I want it to, don't think badly of me."

"Draco…"

"Severus, you've taught me so much and I'm sure you've promised my parents to keep me safe, but I can't leave Father's fate to the Ministry."

Snape said nothing.

"Will you go with me to the Dark Lord?"

"I cannot."

"Yes, you can." He looked into the man's eyes, which now bore a resemblance to polished obsidian. "Please, Severus."

The potions master regarded him and then he leaned in to press a kiss to the boy's lips. "Why can I never deny you?" He seemed to be asking himself as much as he was asking the youth in his arms.

"Because you love me." Draco didn't know why he'd said that but all the same, he knew it was true. Furthermore, Draco loved him in return. It was a bizarre sort of love, but then again, theirs was a bizarre sort of friendship.

Severus was staring at him strangely after this observation and Draco let his fingers find their way through the buttons of Snape's robes and under his shirt so that he could stroke the other man's chest. "Can I stay tonight?"

He saw the war that raged in the older man's eyes but finally Severus nodded. "Just this once, but we'll have to be careful."

"Mmm hmm," Draco hummed as he leaned down to nibble on the potions master's collarbone where it peeked from his now partially-opened shirt. He was rewarded by a low growl and the murmured assertion, "You're going to be the death of me, Draco."

**oOoOo**

Sucking in a long breath, he held it for a count of ten then pushed his way into the chamber beyond. The dim room was lit only by guttering torches which cast grotesque shadows over the walls. His step might have faltered were it not for the robed and masked figure by his side.

Severus' presence was somehow calming and yet prompted him, without words, to keep moving forward with head held high until he was standing before a large, throne-like chair. The chair was currently occupied by a man.

It wasn't just any man but rather the greatest wizard of the age – whose reddish eyes swiveled malevolently toward him. A sneer lifted the corner of Voldemort's thin mouth for the briefest of moments and then he spoke, his voice like a soft hiss.

"So, young Malfoy. I am told you wish to take your father's place at my side. I hope that you prove more worthy than he did."

Draco opened his mouth to speak and found it too dry to form words. He glanced at the man beside him as he swallowed and noted an almost imperceptible nod.

"Y-yes, my Lord…but I actually wish to _join_ my father at your side."

A harsh laugh erupted from Voldemort at that and he leaned toward the boy. "Have you not heard? Your fool of a father is in Azkaban. He failed me."'

"I do know that, my Lord, but I am asking your help to free him."

"Impossible." Voldemort waved dismissively, "Even if I wanted him back, he's well guarded."

"Surely that wouldn't be hard to remedy for a wizard as powerful as you, my Lord."

Voldemort regarded him thoughtfully. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Boy. If I return your father to you, what will I get in return?"

"My services."

Voldemort laughed again, more loudly this time, and the Death Eaters that lined the wall joined in. "An untested, underage wizard whose father has proven to be a failure? What use could _you _be to me?"

Draco looked into that serpent-like stare without flinching. "I am in an excellent position to help you do away with Harry Potter," he took a quick breath before going on, "but even more than that, I have brought with me a spy in the guise of one of your trusted Death Eaters. Severus Snape isn't _just_ part of Dumbledore's teaching staff; he's part of the so-called 'Order of the Phoenix.'"

Voldemort's appraising glance turned to regard the tall man now standing rigid at Draco's side. Then slowly, the red eyes swiveled back to Draco. "That is the chip with which you thought to bargain for your father's life?" The Dark Lord sniffed.

"Yes," Draco's voice showed his indignation, "I have delivered a spy right into your hands, isn't that enough to prove my worth?"

"It might have been, were he not a double agent – a spy on my orders. Still, you weren't to know that, were you?" He seemed to stare right through the boy. "Despite your feeble efforts, you have shown a willingness to turn on your lover. Oh yes, I know that the two of you have often shared a bed this year – though perhaps not any more."

The sneer was more pronounced; the bastard was enjoying this immensely. Draco fumed, but the anger only masked the utter mortification that boiled underneath. Voldemort was speaking again, drowning out the boy's inner turmoil. "I will set you a few tasks and if you perform them well, I will perhaps help you free Lucius from prison."

"Thank you," muttered Draco, still in shock at what had just occurred.

"Don't thank me yet, Boy." The Dark Lord stood. "Hold out your arm."

Draco complied automatically and Voldemort grasped his hand. After waving his wand over the boy's arm and murmuring a series of sinister and complex charms, the Dark Mark glowed upon Draco's skin. The boy hissed and cried out as the _mors mordre_ was seared deep into his flesh. Finally it was done and Draco was allowed to tug his arm out of Voldemort's grasp.

"I will call you soon and I expect you to appear before me with all due haste when you feel the Mark burn. You will be given your instructions at that time." Voldemort turned back to his throne. "Until then, young Malfoy."

Having been thus dismissed, Draco bowed, turned on his heel and fled. Once away from the room, he stopped, breathing heavily as he tried to master the rising sense of panic that was just setting in. Slowly, he became aware of the man who still stood at his side.

"Severus, I…"

The dark eyes bored into his. The potions master said nothing.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered desperately, "I wanted to save him. I wanted to make him proud of me for once. You have to understand!"

A moment more the older man lingered, then he turned and walked away. Draco called after him but he kept walking. "Severus, I'm sorry!"

There was only an echoing silence between them as the potions master vanished into the night.

"Sorry…" he murmured, realizing far too late that when you betrayed someone, sorry was never enough to make things right.


End file.
